Goldifoy and the Four Muggles
by Vitugglan
Summary: Draco Malfoy and his friends invade a Muggle home.


Draco Malfoy motioned to his friends, Crabbe and Goyle, to join him behind the bush to spy on the Muggles. 

"They're going out," he whispered as the family's car backed out of the drive. In a few minutes, the car had disappeared over a rise, and the lonely house was deserted and ready for what tricks Malfoy and his friends could play. 

They apparated into the living room and decided to set to work. 

"You go upstairs," Malfoy told Crabbe. "Gregory and I'll look around down here." 

Crabbe went up the narrow stairs, poking his hip with the end of the railing. Malfoy and Goyle split up and started exploring the ground floor. 

The first place Malfoy went was the kitchen. There were some dishes in the rack, and several shiny appliances lined up in rows on the counter. He reached for one, and, curious, pushed a button. 

The machine came to life. Blades in the bottom began to spin, the whole contraption making a loud, whirring noise. Malfoy hit other buttons, but the machine only whirred faster, the insidious blades spinning so fast that they looked like one transparent disk. 

"How do you stop this thing?" he yelled, and Goyle came in to try and help. 

They punched buttons, being very careful to stay away from the ominous red one which set slightly apart from the others. If the pale ones lined up in a row could do this, then imagine what that red one could do! 

Finally, Goyle grabbed the thing and upended it, stopping the whirring sound. Neither of them noticed that the cord had come unplugged. 

"Do you think this one does the same?" Goyle asked, looking at a shiny metal box with a long door and window right across its front. There was a toggle switch on the bottom right, and he pressed it. 

The machine did nothing. 

Malfoy and Goyle exchanged interested expressions, and started down the length of the counter, pushing buttons to see what would happen. 

One machine held a pot underneath a spout. Malfoy pushed its switch to 'on', and it breathed at him. 

"I say! It's come alive!" 

Goyle looked over just as water began to spurt out of the opening and into the pot. He sniffed the air. 

"It's making coffee!" 

"Good of it," said Malfoy. "See if you can find some cups." 

Goyle started going through the shelves while Malfoy went on with the appliances. The long, low, shiny thing had begun to glow red inside. He opened the door and felt heat on his face. 

"This must be a fireplace," he said, reaching in. His hand touched one of the glowing rods by accident, and he pulled away, burned. 

Malfoy's face contorted into an angry sneer. He took his wand and aimed it at the beast. The thing exploded into several pieces, spreading debris along the counter, and starting a fire up its cord. 

Smoke began to fill the kitchen. Malfoy went along, unconcerned. After all, these were just Muggles. It didn't matter if their house burnt down. 

Something started beeping. The sound was loud and piercing. Malfoy turned in a circle, trying to find the source of the noise. 

Gregory Goyle put his hands to his ears. "Can't you make it stop?" 

"I could if I knew where it was coming from!" 

Something else began to ring. Between the noise of ringing and beeping, Malfoy and Goyle fled the kitchen. 

Upstairs, Crabbe had found the bathroom. He knew what it was, but was surprised that Muggles had enough smarts to put them in their houses. A white and metal rod was laying on the side of the sink, its tail snaking down to the floor. He picked it up and studied it. He could imagine what he'd do with it, but couldn't understand why Muggles might have an impalement device. 

The tail interested him. It had two prongs at its end. He looked at it closely. The prongs were too close together to poke at both eyes. Maybe... 

Then he saw the outlet. Its holes were just as wide as the prongs on the impaler's tail. He put the prongs into the holes, and they fit. But, they pulled out easily. Couldn't be used to tether someone. He put the prongs back in and waited to see what they would do. 

It didn't do a thing. Crabbe reached out to grab the device by its long post, then withdrew his hand quickly. The thing was red-hot! 

_Sweet!_ he thought. _Imagine sticking that..._

Cautiously this time, he reached for the thing. Its post was hot, but the white below it was cool. He picked it up and studied it, breaking it loose from the wall. 

What? It was cooling off! Crabbe wasn't the smartest bulb in town, but he understood that there had to be a cause. He checked around, pushed the button to the three positions it had, but, nothing happened. It kept on cooling down. 

Must be the tail, he thought, and plugged the prongs back in. Immediately, the post began to warm again. Crabbe smiled. He'd found the secret. He unplugged the device and pocketed it, then went on to another room. 

Downstairs, Malfoy and Goyle were in the parlor. A large black box stood on a table, its glassy center reflecting the two young men. They were both shaken up by the noises, but since no one was home, they didn't mean a thing. 

Goyle sat down in a large chair and leaned his arm on the table beside it. His elbow rested on a slender device filled with buttons. 

They heard a subtle click beneath the sound of the beeping, which was rapidly becoming background noise to them. The black box suddenly displayed Muggles running around through its window and a man's voice filled the room. 

"It's been a good day for the Brazilian team," the man informed them. 

"So?" said Malfoy. 

"Here's the game-winning goal by Paolo Valdes." 

A man in a skimpy uniform kicked at a ball that went into a netted cave. Another man dived to catch it, but it passed him by. 

Goyle shifted in his chair, and suddenly, a woman smiled out at them, holding up a bottle filled with an amber liquid. 

"Clean & Bright removes grease from your dishes while keeping your hands soft and smooth." 

"House elves doing the dishes keeps my hands soft and smooth," Malfoy retorted. He smirked at Goyle, who gave him a thumb's up. 

The window changed scenes again. A woman, clearly distraught, had her back to a man who seemed concerned. 

"Marilyn-" 

"No, Trevor. It's over." 

The woman wiped away a tear. 

"No!" 

The man approached her and put his hands on her shoulders. 

"It mustn't end this way! I'll give up drinking! I'll give up other women! Marilyn... Please. I... I love you." 

Malfoy sat down in the chair opposite Goyle's and stared at the screen. "Don't take him back!" he commanded, "He's lying!" 

Marilyn turned around to face Trevor. "I'd like to believe that, but... It's no use. You've said it before, and I took you at your word." She turned away. "It's over." 

With a look that Malfoy knew must have been meant for him, she swept away from the window, leaving Trevor staring after her. 

"She's got his number," Goyle said. 

"All she needed was encouragement. Wonder what Crabbe's doing?" 

Goyle lifted himself to his feet. The window changed again, and a gun was pointing directly at them. 

"Don't move!" a man commanded. 

Goyle remained where he was, staring down the massive barrel of the gun. He knew what guns were. Some Muggles had tried to use them on his father once, when he was out doing stuff for the Dark Lord. He'd dragged himself back home with a hole in his shoulder and several muscles torn, the bone fragmented. Goyle wasn't about to disobey this order. 

Now, a terrified man dressed in black, shivered at the command. He dropped a bag he'd been carrying and raised his hands in the air. 

"Don't shoot! I'll go quietly!" 

Goyle made his escape the minute the gun disappeared, leaving Malfoy to watch in amazement as the man was thrown to the ground and his hands tied behind him with metal bracelets. 

Malfoy looked at the tip of his wand, which seemed small in comparison with the thing in the window. His wand had a good, solid tip, not a hole. He wondered why it had frightened the man with the bag. 

Upstairs, Goyle found Crabbe in a bedroom, standing at a mirror, a slimey goo smeared all over his arm. The room smelled of too many strawberries. Crabbe turned around and showed Goyle his arm. 

"Look at this stuff!" he exclaimed. He pulled at one edge, and the goo peeled off, taking some arm hairs with it. "Now, feel." 

Goyle tentatively rubbed Crabbe's arm. "Smooth," he said. 

"Try it." 

Goyle took some, but he didn't want to mimic Crabbe. So he stuck it in his hair. 

It was stiff. He played around with his hair in the mirror, making it spikey all over. "How do I look?" he asked. 

"Like a Muggle." 

They both laughed. 

Downstairs, the smoke was getting too thick for Malfoy's comfort. He aimed his wand at a different window and it slid up... 

Making yet another sound split the air. A loud, constant ring filled the room. Malfoy put his hands over his ears and went up the stairs to see what Crabbe and Goyle were doing. 

Goyle's hair was spiked in porcupine-like quills all over his head. Crabbe had a soft brown mound sitting on top of his. They both had very red cheeks, bright red lips, and very black lashes. 

"What are you two doing?" Malfoy demanded. 

"Here! Try this out." 

Crabbe tossed a cannister to Malfoy. He turned it around in his hand, then looked down the spout at the top. Only some pale brown residue was inside it. He moved it closer, and hitched his hand up on the can. 

A stream of pale brown foam hit him directly in the eye. He dropped the thing and wheeled around, cleaning the foam from his aching eye with his fingers. 

No wonder that guy had surrendered! If a little hole like this could cause so much damage, think of what the big one would do! 

Removing the foam didn't make any difference. Malfoy's eye still stung. In fact, it burned like a thousand hot needles were being pressed into its surface. 

"Get this stuff off of me!" he shouted. 

Crabbe and Goyle grabbed him by the shoulders and rushed him into the bathroom. They turned the knobs at the sink - at least some things were normal in a Muggle house! - and filled a cup to splash Malfoy's face. None of them noticed the car pulling into the drive. 

"Ow! What are you trying to do to me? Scald me?" 

Steam was rising from the sink. Malfoy's face was bright red. Crabbe tried to wipe him down with a towel while Goyle tried to find some potion to relieve the pain. 

"What's going on in here?" 

The three wizards looked up. A gaunt, sunburnt man was standing in the door, a device held to his shoulders that had not just one gaping hole, but two. 

"You're not pointing that thing at me!" Malfoy yelled. He whipped out his wand. It slipped through his fingers and flew between the man's legs and across the hallway . 

"You're not going to scare me with a little stick. Now, move. All of you. And don't reach for anything else, or you'll get it right between the eyes." 

Crabbe went first, then Goyle, with Malfoy very tense and nearly blind, right ahead of the man with the large foam shooter. Malfoy made certain not to move suddenly. He couldn't imagine the pain if that thing covered him with the foam. 

A woman, a girl, and a boy were waiting downstairs. 

"Look what I found," the man said as Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy lined up, subdued and sorry, before them. 

"Do you know them?" the woman asked the girl. 

The girl laughed sarcastically. "Like, I'm sure. Hell, no." 

Malfoy shot her a dirty look. He could see that reaction for Crabbe or Goyle. But not for him. 

"Good thing," the man observed. "The scrawney one tried to fight me off with a stick." 

The Muggles burst into fits of laughter. 

"I've called the police and fire, and they'll be on their way. They got a call from the alarm company, but..." the woman shrugged. 

"Looks like I'm voting BNP come the next election," the man observed, then pushed Malfoy with the foam shooter. 

"Hey! I already got some of that stuff in my eye!" 

"Birdshot?" asked the man. 

"Is that what that brown foam is?" Malfoy asked, nodding at Crabbe's head. 

"That's mousse," the girl said. She seemed to think Malfoy was deficient. 

"I'll have you know my Lord's the most powerful..." 

"Your _Lord_? What are you? A serf?" the girl asked. 

"An oaf, more like," the boy snickered. 

Malfoy turned to Goyle. "Get us out of here." 

"Not me," Goyle said. "He's got one of those gun things. My father got shot by one of those things once. Tore up his shoulder pretty bad. Took the healer all night to fix it." 

Malfoy glared at the Muggles. 

"What's wrong with your eye?" the boy asked him. 

"Got some of that mousse in it." 

"Come here, we'll fix that up." The Muggle woman stepped forward. 

"Maybe you shouldn't take him off like that," the man said. 

"Nonsense. I can handle this one alone." The woman hitched Malfoy's arm up his back until he thought his shoulder would seperate from its socket, and led him off to the tiny bathroom underneath the stairs. 

"They've got sticks, too," the boy said, pointing at Goyle's and Crabbe's waists. 

"So they do. Well, they're little sticks. Might as well leave them on them." 

"They're pretty." The girl took Goyle's wand and twisted her hair into a makeshift bun, then stabbed the wand through it to hold it into place. "How do I look?" 

"Don't let your mother see you like that, she'll have all your hair cut off." 

The girl pouted, but removed the wand. Her pale hair fell down around her shoulders again. 

"So. What were you boys doing? How old are you, anyway?" 

The man was looking straight at Crabbe. 

"Sixteen," Crabbe answered, "But I'll be seventeen next month." 

"Good thing you came this month, then. It's still only the juvenile system. Might as well sit down and wait. The police'll be here sometime between now and next Tuesday." 

Crabbe and Goyle sat down on the sofa. The man sat down in the chair Goyle had used earlier, the two-holed gun pointed at them across his knee. 

In the bathroom, the woman was trying to get Malfoy to use an eye cup. 

"I want to see a healer," he said petulantly. 

"Oh, we don't go in for those New Age things. And this is nothing to bother the doctor about. Just put this cup to your eye and bathe it until the mousse is washed out. Go on." 

She twisted his arm again, and he decided that it would be better to do as she said than to argue. He put the cup to his eye and raised his head. Immediately, his eye felt soothed. 

Out in the parlor, Crabbe and Goyle were just sitting on the sofa. Neither of them could come up with a plan to get out of this mess. They'd be taken by the Muggle police, and then have to face an inquiry at the Ministry. The worst thing was, that stupid Arthur Weasley would be prosecuting them for extreme misuse of Muggle artifacts. 

And their fathers would kill them. 

Just when it seemed darkest, Narcissa Malfoy apparated into the room. 

"There you are! Your mothers are worried sick. Where's my Draco?" 

"Are you responsible for these boys?" the man asked, shifting uncomfortably. 

"How did you do that?" the girl breathed. 

"Do what?" Narcissa asked, ignoring the man, who was obviously a Muggle cretin. 

"Appear out of thin air." 

"Oh. It's easy. Watch." 

And she disappeared, reapparating once again beside the sofa. 

"Wow," the boy said, looking at her with admiration. 

But, enough fun. Narcissa leaned over Crabbe, who was closest to her, and said again, "Where's Draco?" 

"He's in getting his eye fixed," Crabbe replied. 

Narcissa straightened up. "What happened to my son's eye?" 

"He got some hair stuff in it." 

"Is he going to be all right? Have you called a healer?" 

"Why would I want to do that? I come home, and my wife's toaster oven is smashed. The blender's on the floor. My kitchen's on fire and I've got to put it out. The smoke alarm's going off, the burglar alarm's going off. The upstairs bathroom's a mess, and I'll bet my daughter's room is, too. And I find these boys going through our stuff and ransacking the whole house. Why would I want to call a doctor for something your son did to himself when he was where he shouldn't have been in the first place?" 

Narcissa didn't like confrontations. She turned to the girl. "Could it hurt his eye very badly?" 

"No, it'll just sting a while. Nice outfit. Where'd you get it?" 

"Venice. You like it?" Narcissa modeled it for the girl. 

"It's bitchen!" she replied. 

Narcissa waved her wand, and the girl was wearing an identical outfit. 

"Now, let's see if we can't clean this place up." 

She waved her wand again, and the acrid smell of burning wires and wet extinguisher foam was gone. 

"You're just like a fairy godmother!" the girl exclaimed. 

Narcissa smiled. It felt good to have someone complement her for a change. "If you think that's good, just wait." 

The Muggle woman brought Draco back into the room, and stopped when she saw Narcissa. 

"This is the boy's mother," the man explained. 

"I'm terribly sorry about the trouble my son and his friends have caused. I've tried to fix what I can. If I need to do anything else, just send an owl to Narcissa Malfoy, and I'll come right back. How's your eye, honey?" 

"Better." 

Narcissa straightened up and glared down at her son. "Good. Now, you go right home and wait for me in your room. You boys had better get home, too. Your mothers are really angry that you've been gone so long. Just wait til I tell your fathers what you've been up to!" 

"My wand's upstairs." 

Narcissa made sure Draco had his wand, then watched with disapproval until the three boys had disapparated home. 

"That was awesome," said the girl. 

"Thank you. Now, remember. Send an owl if anything else needs to be done, and I'll be right back to do it. Narcissa Malfoy." 

She disapparated, leaving the Muggles to stare at each other in disbelief. 

Only the girl was in the least bit happy with the encounter. The outfit was magnificent. 


End file.
